Thumbtacks and Christmas Trees
by AlternateShadesofBlue
Summary: Darvey Advent Repost. The last person Donna wants to run into this Christmas Eve is Harvey. A late client and an impending snowstorm forces her to face her fears and face a night of no escape. With him.


_A/N's: Repost from Darvey Advent event onto my personal account. _

_Merry Christmas to my favorite fandom and friends, with love. Hope you enjoy!_

_Set weeks after 7x15 without the wedding/Machel leaving._

* * *

Weeks had passed since their night of double and triple and quadruple servings of Macallan in her office. Back to normal apparently meant avoiding anything that could lead to more.

Every moment between them has a veil of this new normal. No more middle of the night or early phone calls, only stunted laughter and office related texts. Their flirting has turned into longer looks and smiles, regretful for what is lost.

Their history has scattered around them like shards of broken glass, and they've become experts at tiptoeing around it without ever giving any indication they're aware the damage exists.

They're fine of course. Friendships shift and drift apart from time to time and her and Harvey had made it this long and still managed to be on amicable terms.

But, she misses them. The freeness of their late nights, them above the world and in their own glass bubble, communicating through banter, inside jokes, and flirty looks that said everything and not enough.

So as Christmas approaches, and she's searching for the perfect gift for him, she struggles. They're either too meaningful and touching into that category that puts them into too much, or they're so impersonal it could come across as a slight.

It turns out a gift for your boss, once lover, near BFF, who – you kissed when he was still with his therapist girlfriend – isn't an easy decision.

In the past, Donna had always pitied the unorganized souls that waited to shop until the last minute. Sure, some had to wait until paychecks came along or a spare minute without their children in tow, but neither of those things applied to her.

Her plan, as idiotic as it had become: Get out of the office really quickly on Christmas Eve and pick something on a whim.

Or her back up plan: Leave early enough to avoid him and feign they just hadn't seen each other in time.

She was never one to leave life to chance, but hell if she wanted to focus on the impossible in the final Christmas rush. As it turns out, the decision was made for her. One extra issue at the office thwarted her first plan. And made her hours late for the second.

All Donna wants now is to sneak out, get to her apartment, and sit by the fire under a blanket and relax in the ambiance of her lit-up tree with a glass of wine. Instead, she's at least two hours late leaving, with a rapidly increasing snowstorm outside and likely far too many people waiting for cabs.

She starts readying herself to step into the weather, wrapping up tightly in her coat and scarf, and changing her shoes into warmer boots.

"Bad night?" she hears from behind her, the familiar rich voice causing her breath to hitch.

"Since it's after 6 pm and I'm still here, yes."

He bends his head, hands in his pockets, ease about him. "Need a ride?"

Any sane person would instantly scream yes. A cab will be impossible and the weather is far too dreadful to wait in.

But this is the same territory she'd been trying to avoid. She takes one look out the window, seeing the chaos piling up and decides. "You're a savior."

"That's not what they usually call me."

"I _know_ what they usually call you."

He laughs, taking it in good humor. "I just need to make a stop along the way. I left something at a client meeting earlier."

"Are you serious? It's Christmas Eve."

"Which is why I need to go since I won't be able to get it tomorrow. It'll be quick."

Something inside her tells her to cut and run, but she chances the streets becoming undrivable and ending up stuck at the office. Not an enticing option for Christmas.

They take the elevator down, alone in near silence. The distance between them, or rather lack thereof, making the air seem thick.

In minutes he's in front of the Lexus, opening the door and standing beside it.

Her boots click as she catches up, stopping beside him while they exchange familiar tension. She slips inside, letting herself feel warm and pampered for a second by her own mental flirtation with the unavailable.

He flashes her a smile as he settles inside. They exchange small talk with Ray about the weather and the outside traffic, and for once she's grateful for the distance. Once the subject hits Christmas she'd have to cover or admit. And both seem to land them even further away than they'd already become.

Nearly an hour later and bizarrely neither Harvey nor Ray mentioned Christmas and they finally arrive somewhere in Queens, in the side alley o fan abandoned looking building. Wherever this is, it wasn't on the way.

He turns to her. "Come up with me?"

Her eyes widen. "And go out in this weather? Which is an hour worse now, by the way."

"Come on. My phone is about to die and I might need the light from yours."

"Afraid of the dark?" she mocks.

He rolls his eyes and she reluctantly climbs out with his help into the chilling snow, the flakes coming down fast and rapidly covering her coat.

A maintenance worker meets them on at a side entrance, opening the door with a code and fingerprint. "Modern security, huh?" the guy comments. "Go ahead and leave when you're ready. The door auto locks."

"Thanks," Harvey says. "Merry Christmas."

The guy less than enthusiastically returns the sentiment and takes off.

Donna instantly feels the emptiness from the building when she steps inside. It's hollow and cool, despite the bit of functioning electricity. Whatever Harvey's business is here, it must be developmental. "Who's building is this anyway?" she asks.

"Uh, an old friend. Kyle Connolly," he nearly mumbles.

"Is he a client?" she asks, because she's pretty sure he isn't.

"Could be."

She side-eyes his evasive answer as they ride the elevator up from the service entrance. The floor of the building basically consists of a lot of empty space and some office furniture shoved in corners from the previous tenants. Harvey heads over to a corner, then pauses in front of the window. He starts messing with his phone.

"Um, Harvey? Quick stop, remember?"

"Just give me a minute. I need to figure out where he left it."

"Come on, Harvey. It's Christmas Eve, it's late. Can we please just go?"

"_Donna. _Just wait, please."

She stands, tapping her foot, while what feels like an eternity passes. After growing anxious and bored, she tries for hers, waiting for her signal to kick in. Before she can, she hears a hum, then the single light in the corner of the floor flickers and goes black, along with the city out the window.

"Shit!" he says.

"Oh no." She turns on her cell flashlight, giving them some light.

"It's… Not a big deal." He groans, sounding more irritated than she's feeling.

"What about the door? And the elevator?"

He glances around as if he's somehow looking for answers. "We can use the stairs," he finally says, disappointment in his voice.

They find the stairwell and go down the three flights. His steps are much more rushed considering his ease moments before.

They head straight for the door.

Harvey tries to open it, attempting the handle and pulling.

It doesn't budge.

"Oh my god. Is it frozen shut?" she asks, feeling her heart speed up.

"No… It's just…" He keeps trying, shaking it back and forth and finally pounding on the edges. After an exaggerated amount of time trying, he stops, staring at the metal frame with a hand on the back of his head.

"Harvey, what's going on?"

"I… I think because it's electric it's malfunctioning or something."

Donna's hand goes to her forehead, spinning around. She goes up to the door and tries for it herself, desperately yanking and pushing until her arms are sore, but doesn't have any more luck. "Call someone?" she not-so-gently suggests.

He nods, scrolling through his contacts before his screen goes black. "Uh..."

"You've got to be kidding me." She shakes her head, pulling out her phone trying to decide who to dial. Especially past 7 pm on Christmas Eve in a snowstorm.

It's then, in an almost comical mishap of things gone wrong, when she realizes she has zero signal. Not even the old-style roaming signal. Like she's in the middle of nowhere with a shitty provider.

_Gone_.

She flashes him her screen until it registers on his face.

"Maybe we just need to get back upstairs and it will pick one up."

The ease at which he tries to appease her when he got them into this climbs her annoyance. "Or maybe, it's because of this storm and we should have headed straight home in the first place."

His jaw tenses, arms hanging at his side. "You could have said no if it was such a problem, Donna."

"I couldn't have," she says under her breath. "A cab would have been near impossible in this."

Hurt flashes across his face, making her nearly regret her frustration.

She rubs her arms, shifting in place. The building wasn't very warm as it was, but down here in the service entrance, it's nearly unbearable.

"Let's get back upstairs," he says, his voice resigned.

"What about Ray?"

"Ray's warm and has a way to get home right now."

She grows uncomfortable at the implication that they don't have either of those things.

There's still very little light coming from the windows upstairs, and it's only a fraction warmer. Harvey goes straight for the window again, his shoulders slumped.

"What did you need to get, anyway?"

"Things," he answers.

"_Things?_" She huffs out in frustration, thinking maybe she doesn't even want to know if he's being so cryptic. "God I didn't even have dinner."

He stares at her, an internal debate obvious in his expression.

"What?" she asks.

Soon he's disappearing behind an office desk, opening a drawer. He produces what looks to be a warmer bag of food, two wine glasses, and a bottle of wine.

Her eyes widen. "Did you… What the hell, Harvey? Did you plan this?"

"The power outage? What do you think I am? The mayor?"

"Well, you're making dinner appear from thin air."

His jaw clenches. "Definitely not the power. Dinner? I might have."

Her mouth opens but words struggle to pour out as he stares at her as if she's supposed to produce the explanation. "Are you going to explain?"

He sighs, his shoulders falling. "Look. Things have been... Distant between us. For quite awhile. And a friend of mine owned this building, which was _supposed_ to have a spectacular view of a light show down this street." He points down the darkened night out the glass.

A fluttering takes over her stomach.

Despite her softening, he's still clearly struggling with annoyance. "I didn't intend for the snow or getting trapped. Just take out, some wine, an office. And surprising you."

She steps closer, bending her head and flashing him a smile. "We could have been in my apartment you know. Warm, with my gorgeous lit-up tree."

"The power might be out there too." He stomps his foot.

"Which we would have been more prepared for."

"But it wouldn't have been me doing something for you." There's a cute boyish sincerity in his voice that just dismantles her.

"And this is better?" she teases.

"Are you really that unsentimental?" he asks, and now he's fully got her.

When she shakes her head to dismiss their impossible conversation he begins laying out a spread of items from a very familiar shitty Thai place.

Her eyes go wide and her stomach draws her nearer. He arranges the food and pours the wine. Then rolls an office chair to her side of the desk and sits on his own.

It's hardly impressive. Take out Thai food, an empty and run-down building with stale air, and barely enough light to see their food. But it feels more like them than it had in a long time.

They begin to eat and she realizes how much her mouth missed Som Tam. The last time she'd had it had been when she was still his secretary, and the thought makes her frown.

"So, are you pissed at me?" he asks.

"That depends on the rest of the night."

He laughs. "That bad, huh?"

"Doesn't every woman dream of freezing to death for Christmas?"

"You know I'd protect you. I saw some lumber downstairs. I'll light it on fire."

"Smoke inhalation is probably a much better way to go."

"If I didn't burn us alive."

They burst out laughing, the joking between them suddenly making her care less about where they are and that they're trapped.

She picks at her plate, thinking on part of why they ended up here like this. "You know, I should confess something too."

"What's that?" he asks.

"I haven't found a gift for you yet."

His face falls for a brief second, and she worries he's hurt. Then he flashes a brief smile. "You, Donna Paulsen, weren't prepared?"

"For less amusing reasons than yours."

"So, why?" he challenges.

She stares at him, trying to figure out if he's ready, and more importantly if she is. She swallows her last bite and takes a large sip of wine. "Ever since what happened with Paula—"

"Donna."

"You wanted to know the reason. Despite what we said, things haven't been normal for us for a long time."

He rubs at his forehead. "I know. So how do we fix that?"

"Spending all night in an abandoned office seems overkill."

He grins. "They were supposed to be really good lights."

"I'll have to imagine them myself I guess."

Soon they're done with dinner and more to say fades into more unsaids. They stuff it all in the bag and she goes in search of a trashcan and a restroom, hopefully with a decent enough mirror to see how the day's events have played on her face.

* * *

When she returns, she sees a couple of cushions laying in front of the wall near where they'd sat. Harvey is bent toward the wall, grabbing something from his left hand, then his thumb presses against the plaster.

She stares puzzlingly as she steps up to him. It's then she sees he's pushing in a bunch of clear thumb-tacks. And they're nearly making the shape of a Christmas tree.

"Harvey, I'm worried about surviving the night and you're damaging the wall with office supplies?"

"You wanted a tree." He opens his palms to present the several hundred thumbtack-tree. "Thumbtacks seemed fitting," he adds with a smile.

Her lips fall open slightly, feeling amusement heat up her cheeks.

"And I have decorations." He picks up a pair of boxes from a nearby desk. One containing multi-colored rubber bands and the other jumbo, multi-colored paper clips. He opens the boxes, offering them to her. Grinning.

"This is the most ridiculous idea you've ever had."

He smashes his lips, waiting, a sparkle in his eyes even in the darkness.

She scoffs and fights back a grin which he must notice because one appears back on his face. She goes over to them, figuring they still had hours to kill and picks up a few of each. "So what the hell do I do with these anyway?"

"Do I have to do all the creative thinking here?" He takes a few of the paperclips and sits down under the tree on a sofa cushion, sitting cross-legged. He begins to unbend a yellow paperclip, then begins to re-bend it and twist it as seconds pass by. She stands beside him, watching, curious about this new version of her boss on the floor wrapped in thousands of dollars of tailoring. Playing with a paperclip in the dark.

Soon he seems pleased with himself and loops a rubber band through the shape, then dangles the metal from his fingers.

A star. Or at least some semblance of one.

"What do you think? Do you want to do the honors?" He holds out the first "ornament" and she takes it from him, hooking it on one of the pegs of the thumbtacks on the wall.

"So?" he asks, looking at her expectantly.

"What? You expect me to make one?"

"An empty tree is an empty Christmas spirit, Donna."

She chokes a laugh. "You can't be serious."

He tilts his head, waiting.

She rolls her eyes and grabs a paperclip, sitting beside him and doing her best to adjust her dress.

"No copying my designs though," he warns.

"You going to sue me now?" she asks as she begins to shape the beginnings of a red candy cane.

"I could close you," he says in a low voice.

Her breath catches before she recovers. "You're forgetting who you're up against. Thirteen years."

"As if I could ever forget."

Their eyes meet before she breaks the tension, looking away and focusing on the metal between her fingers. She follows his lead with the rubber band and presents it to him.

"Not bad." He's already started on his next one and she grabs another.

Before long they have around a dozen paper clip ornaments on their thumbtack tree and her fingers are sore but it's maybe the best distraction she could ever give someone credit for.

They have baubles and a snowflake, a gingerbread man, and something that looked barely like a reindeer. Plus a very cute, white snowman.

"What are you working on now?" he asks.

She lifts up the circle with a pair of pointy ears.

"A cat? A cat isn't Christmas. Unless you're Louis."

"It's a Pomeranian and neither is that truck."

"That's a Lamborghini!"

She shoots him a look, arching her brow.

"And anyway, a luxury car can be a boy's dream gift."

"And a puppy isn't?" She crosses her arms, daring him.

"Fine. You can have your Christmas puppy."

"And I'll grant the Lamborghini. But I get to drive it."

He shoots her a look that screams _no way in hell_ which she ignores.

She smirks at her next one, handing it over. "Here. Have a glass of scotch. Empty because you're a boozer."

"Like you didn't help with that bottle weeks ago?"

She rolls her eyes.

Soon he's handing her a new one. A cylinder with a cap looking thing pointing from the top. "That's the shittiest candle I've ever seen."

"It's not a candle," he answers, serious.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm actually offended. Whipped cream."

"And that's Christmassy?" she exclaims.

"Best gift I ever got."

"Harvey," she warns.

"What?"

"So much for never mentioning it again."

"Like you haven't?" he challenges.

She doesn't answer, knowing full well this could lead them places they avoid now. Instead, she works on a teddy bear.

He's hanging up a final ornament on their very full tree, and this time she's completely stumped on what it is. It has a pair of pointy ends that bend at the top, and a little butterfly looking thing near the bendy part at one side.

"Okay, Picasso, spill. What's that one?" She points.

"I figured an old ritual should finalize the new one." He looks at her expectantly.

She stares at him with a blankness.

"The can opener, Donna," he says with a not so slight annoyance.

And before she can find words again for his ridiculous yet touching creation, he's kneeling on the ground below it.

"Let me see your phone."

Against her better judgment, she unlocks it and hands it over. The clear acrylic nubs from all the thumbtacks suddenly light up from the phone's flashlight beneath it. It's nothing like a traditional show, but it's more theirs than anything she could imagine and something about that makes it her favorite.

She grabs her phone back and takes a photo, not wanting to forget.

With the darkness and the flash it comes out grainy and amateur, but with him kneeling in front of it, it's nearly domestic. She bites her bottom lip at the thought of him in a sweater and a Santa hat, building a Christmas Eve fire.

He turns his head to her. "Not too bad, is it?" And before she can answer he's frowning and looking concerned. "God Donna you're freezing. Here." He stands and starts to take off his coat.

"Harvey, you can't do that. You'll freeze just as much as I will."

But then he's wrapping it over her shoulders, buttoning the front. It gives her a whiff of his aftershave and the warmth of his body and she instantly feels wrapped up in him. She loves the feeling way more than is sane.

He points off in the distance with his thumb. "I think I saw another sofa with cushions and some moving blankets in one of the offices. I'll go."

"We can set them up by the tree," she offers behind him.

He looks back, raising his brows as if she's suddenly the ridiculous one.

"I like it." It's theirs. And something they'd bonded over, and that's not something she was ready to move on from.

Before long he's back with more cushions and they arrange them in the equivalent shape of a bed. Then lay out the stack of blankets he'd found.

They don't do anything besides stare at it at first. The reality of what it means and how the night is about to go in freezing temps shoving her someplace she isn't mentally prepared for.

Them lying under a tree they'd created, trapped and alone in the dark while sharing a makeshift bed makes her feel romantically adolescent and just as nervous.

Even with the nerves though, there's something so comfortable about them facing a challenge, just the two of them. Not burdened as much by the obstacle because it meant they had an excuse for each other. She missed having those excuses at the ready.

She glances at her phone. Nearing 11 pm. In the complete darkness she's yawning and he joins her. They chuckle at their synchronicity.

They're not dressed for this. They're not prepared for it either. They don't discuss the fact that cuddling together makes the most sense but it does. For the cold and for the fact that she doesn't want to lay here in this foreign place without feeling the safety he brings.

She takes off both of their coats and folds them into pillows for each. She slips off her boots and while he's removing his shoes she lays down on the cushions, doing her best to keep her dress organized. He does the same with his suit beside her.

Now they're side by side, flat on their backs. It's not enough room, not much bigger than a twin bed with blankets not wide enough to cover. It's so cold she sees her breath, and her fingertips and toes are ice. There isn't enough to wrap beneath them to trap heat, and this is far from comfortable without decent pillows.

They lay there for several minutes or maybe longer, neither speaking.

"So…" he finally says.

"You too, huh?" she asks.

"This isn't going to work all night."

She sighs. They'll still have hours.

"Why don't we just..." He turns on his side. "Here. Lay on your side and scoot closer."

She complies, turning away from him because god she can't stare at his face doing this. They both lay on their sides, him facing her and her not facing him, several inches apart.

This is slightly better. She's still cold but more covered. So they stay there. Time passing.

She begins to feel like a kid. Unable to get comfortable or sleep. Unable to think about anything but Christmas morning. Or the fact she's in bed with Harvey.

The cushion isn't providing enough padding. Her body is digging into the ground.

Her dress is itchy, twisted, and too tight. "Ugh!"

"What?" he asks.

"This isn't the clothing to sleep in."

"Same problem." He sighs.

The obvious answer is to take them off.

She has to stop herself for a second and convince herself this is about a real problem. This isn't about getting near-naked with him. It's survival. It's about getting any amount of sleep. "Let's just do it."

"_Do it?_" he clarifies.

"Don't. You know what I mean. We're never sleeping this way."

"Fine with me."

They get up and begin to undress, and she's hurried with it. He's down to his undershirt and boxer briefs and she's in nothing but a bra and panties.

She covers her chest with crossed arms, doing her best to hide and not shiver to death until she makes it back under the blankets.

"Here." He pulls off his t-shirt and hands it her way. And shit her eyes can't leave his chest. "You'll be warmer in this."

She nods in quick thanks and takes it from him then does the remove-your-bra-while-wearing-a-shirt trick and immediately gets back under the covers.

This time he pulls her to him. She only hesitates a second before she succumbs because it makes all the sense in the world. It's where she's most drawn but she's going to file it away as their current situation and not because she can't resist it.

At first, they're a mess of arms and tangling legs until they settle on the best position. Him leaning back, and her pulled up onto his chest, her leg wrapped over him and their arms wrapped over each other. They take up less space and he's able to tuck blankets around their frames.

Now, she's warm.

The tighter they wrap around each other the more she feels it. Needs it. This should feel awkward and way too close, but suddenly everything is right. Too right.

The flimsy wall between them, built up paper brick by paper brick of unsaids and utter frustrations she kept trying to keep in place is just pulled away, along with her list of everything left unsaid. Wrapped up in him, their stomachs meeting and pulling back in unison. Her cheek against his chest hearing his heart. Her head tucked just under his chin.

She feels safe. Where every part of their souls had always longed to be.

The longer she let herself melt into that, the more she never wanted to lose it again.

"You alright?" he asks.

"Yes. You?"

"More than." His hand brushes back strands of her hair, then smooths up and down her back. "Hey, look. I'm sorry, about tonight, about everything."

"I know. I am too."

It's more than about tonight. She knows. They both know. She feels a clench in her chest, and instead of shoving it deep and holding it in, she breathes it out against him and lets it free.

"Tonight wasn't so bad," she admits. "I would have really loved to see the light show though."

"Maybe next year," he says.

"Your friend better get a generator then," she warns.

He chuckles.

She feels his stomach shake where her fingertips rest. "You really thought up all of this for a gift? Why not skip the lights and have a night at the office?"

"I… I didn't want anything to interrupt it."

"Why?" she challenges. Because as much as she knows he'll probably deflect she needs to know if maybe he won't.

"Because nothing else was more important."

Her breath traps in her throat. She's afraid to move.

He maneuvers his body until she's level with his face. "When you kissed me, everything changed. I didn't want to admit it. And you didn't either."

Her lips part, mesmerized by his words and the earnestness on his face.

"It felt right. Too right," he admits.

"Harvey, I—"

"And it made me realize I wanted more." He wasn't letting them get away from this. No protests, no deflections, no interruptions.

Her mouth hangs open, inches from his lips and more than vulnerable.

"That night you left your resignation letter, I'd already decided I wasn't going to lose you to Stu. But when I saw that on my desk, I knew even more the mistake I'd made."

She feels near shaking, tears welling in her eyes.

"My biggest fear has always been losing you."

"Haven't you figured out how much I'd never want you to?"

"_Donna."_ And her name is so breathtaking on his lips it makes her nearly break.

She pleads with him to finish because this time she can't do this for him but she's never been more on the edge of it anyway.

He studies her, regret and question on his face. She flicks her gaze to his lips and dares him.

He takes it, his lips pressing against hers in an instant. Accepting the invitation and any thread of her control. His hand immediately slides up her back and into her hair, his other arm reaching around and coaxing her closer. Her mouth opens to his tongue, allowing herself to whimper when he slides it against hers. He tastes so warm, feels so inviting she could just sink into him and fall forever.

Her head spins being surrounded by him. No distractions, only the beat of his heart and the chill that begs her to seek him further. His fingertips sneak under the hem of the shirt he lent her and spread out on her back, quickly warming up any remaining chills.

She runs her fingertips over his bare arms and shoulders, allowing herself to get to know every shifting muscle while they work to bring her closer. When his hand shifts to her breast she lifts up, raising her arms to assist in getting his shirt over her head.

He groans at the sight of her. The want behind his eyes makes her desperate to feel the reward of it. The backs of his fingertips brush the outside of her breast, then his thumb flicks against her hardened nipple. His mouth finds her neck and soon he is helping her lower onto her back, slipping between her splayed legs and hovering over her chest.

His gaze drags over her, slowly, like a draw of the sweetest high he'd ever experienced.

Their mouths find each other again, his hand slipping under her head, hungrier this time. Open and needing, taking what had been waiting years for them to find and accessing all that they'd always wanted.

She's desperate to feel the extent of how badly he wants her. Her legs wrap around him and she arches her hips. He takes the cue and grinds against her. Once. Twice. Maybe half a dozen times. Each press of him between her legs hitting so right but not quite enough.

His lips savor her neck. Each press of his hips and suck of his mouth makes her wild for more, so desperate to feel him inside of her. She's helping with the friction, begging him with the arch of her hips not to stop.

"Fuck, Donna," he growls into her neck. "You're going to end this before I start."

"Then start already."

He pulls away long enough to look at her, his throat bobbing. His chest rises and falls.

She knows what kind of lover he is. How skilled he is with his mouth and the way he could coax out sounds she'd rarely moaned since with just a curl of his fingers. That's not what she needs right now. She needs him, the feeling of him making her full and as close as he can be, joined in how she always wished they could be.

She helps him slip off her panties and he takes off his boxer briefs. Then he's back between her legs.

He holds himself above her, sipping her in with drunken eyes. All the covers between them had slipped away. Nudity in all the senses. Mind, body, spirit, and raw feelings.

He positions himself, then all she feels is him.

The completeness of him combining with her, the weight of him keeping her grounded in the moment. The desperation of him pulling back only to give her almost more than she can take. Their moans fill the silence of the room, reminding each other how good they feel and how much they'd longed for this.

He nearly cradles her upper body. Every part that can touch is skin against skin. After spending so long using all their energy avoiding, they sink into the depths of letting themselves drown. They connect again and again, while their lips don't let go. It had taken a third of her life to return here, and they enjoy every inch of each other to the fullest.

They soon adjust, him pulling her straight legs against his chest and wrapping his arms around her thighs. He parts them just enough to have his thumb find her clit and then thrusts again. The change in position raised her hips just enough that her body is at the mercy of his undoing. Hitting the perfect spot inside, jostling her breasts with each forward motion.

He watches, his face a mixture of exertion and pleasure from the view. Sweat, veins, pulsing temples, and hungry eyes. All the intensity that always crept its way into her late-night thoughts.

On display. Centered on her. She's mesmerized and crying out. Nearly lost in the feeling of them finding each other again this way, and finding every pleasure in him pleasuring her. Before she can fully prepare, her stomach coils and it hits. Her center tightening inside and around him again and again, spreading into all her limbs and rushing to her face.

Him filling, and hitting the right angle inside draws it out and makes her beg for mercy and more, with expletives and moans falling from her lips. He doesn't let up as he watches her complete unfolding, chasing the end himself.

He's not far behind and she sees every bit of tension on his face unfold. The lines, the drawing of his brow, the fucks that slip out. She'd seen it a thousand times in her dreams, but never in the shadows of the moon and with clarity.

She doesn't have to worry about waking up when he falls beside her and pulls her into his arms. For the first time in years, she can finally rest. Fully letting the doubts and the what-ifs in her mind fade away. They're not needed here.

He tucks her in and brushes hair from her face. Eyes on eyes, face to face, fully drinking in the reality of everything they'd wanted.

* * *

When she wakes, his hand is resting on the side of her face, lightly brushing her cheek.

"Hey, beautiful. I didn't want to wake you, but the sun's coming up."

A grin pulls at her face against her will, and in spite of herself, she knows she's blushing. She ducks her head just under the covers. "It's literally freezing in here."

"I'm sorry," he says, his lips bending in a mock frown.

"Are you?"

"I'm never apologizing about last night again."

He's wearing the widest grin in the history of mankind and suddenly she's already warmer from it.

"I'm not either you know. Sorry."

"Good. I don't know when they might get someone out here to let us out. I thought you might want to—"

"Yeah."

She pushes herself up to sitting, searching around them for all of their discarded clothes. He gets up to hand her things, and it's then when she sees him in his full glory. This time it's her turn to drink him in, since she hadn't had a good look the night before.

He hands her bra, and then double-takes, her intentions registering. "Are you gawking right now?"

"You got a problem with it?"

"I feel like a sex object."

"You _are_ a sex object. My sex object?" she chances.

He bends down, sitting beside her and taking her lips in his, pressing kisses before finally lingering. "All yours."

Her chest rises and falls and the sight of his doing the same settles her into bliss.

They reluctantly hurry to get dressed and she runs to the restroom to freshen up. When she returns, he's staring out at the city below. The world is beginning to wake up. Streets plowed, people salting sidewalks and shoveling snow. And power returned.

She links her hand in his and he turns long enough to smile at her.

Christmas morning. Together. Feeling like the best Christmas since she was ten.

They manage a few kisses before Ray and the man from the night before burst in from the stairs below. They're out of breath and panicked, while her and Harvey explain they'd managed fine. Harvey sends them back downstairs to wait while they stack the cushions and fold blankets.

She goes over to their Thumbtree, removing paper clip ornaments and shoving them in her pockets.

"You can leave that. I'll explain to Kyle."

"I'm taking them home. My tree could use a bit of filling in."

His humor fades and he kisses her again. "I never want to forget it either, Donna."

They take the stairs down, not ready to chance electronics again just yet. As Harvey goes ahead of her to open the door to the Lexus, she stops him.

"I'm sorry about not getting your gift."

"That gift of whipped cream I said was my best gift? This surpassed it."

In the end, they end up in her apartment. Under her tree, giddy on wine, and fully under a blanket. After hanging ornaments together.


End file.
